Nirvana
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: In her dreams there are two of him. M rated for a reason.


In her dream there are two of him.

Both naked, both coming for her.

* * *

><p><em>She drops to her knees in front of one Castle and jiggles her body at the other, hoping to entice him with the shimmy of her hips. She crawls until her head is in the lap of the seated version of her partner and the one at her back finally catches on and follows her down to the ground.<em>

_His knees spread her ankles, his thighs brush her own, she smiles as she inhales the weighted length bobbing before her parting lips._

_He growls behind her and rubs his rigid form against her, fingers and thumbs and the thickened head all sliding against the wetness between her legs. He doesn't quite spear, plays in the shallow depths, only slowly rubbing until she's nearly insane with it._

_The Castle before her is easier, he's trapped beneath the weight of her hands on his thighs, her mouth opening over him to take him with her tongue. _

_Salty, sweet and thick. _

_Oh, god, hot too and blistering the lining of her lips, the softness of her cheeks as she sucks him inside._

_The one behind her grunts and Kate moans loudly, shifting, reaching trying to get him to give her some form of penetration._

_Deep. _

_She wants him deep._

* * *

><p>She moans in her sleep, and the loud, ecstatic sound pulls Castle into wakefulness faster than anything else. He's half drugged with the remnants of last night still heavy through his body, his blood a thickened molasses of delight and memory that leaves his limbs weighted down with pleasure. But she moans and rolls away, thrashes until the sheet falls revealing her perky breasts, and Kate throws herself backwards, flat against the bed. The long low rumbling sound catching on the tip of her tongue.<p>

His eyes startle open.

He knows that sound.

He's _earned_ that sound. Pulled it from the depths of her satisfied body at least fifty times in the last two weeks.

Two weeks since she came to him like a hurricane, a whirlwind of her own making, drenched through and humming with frenetic energy, a dervish in the middle of a storm, telling him she loved him too.

Two weeks and he knows that sound.

He knows the flush of her cheeks and the way her hands creep across her breasts, the same way they do when he drives inside her hard and forceful, gripping her hips to hold her in place. When she needs a little more, a few tweaks to her own bouncing flesh to push her higher, tugging her nipples as she nods her head and urges him further inside.

Harder.

Deeper.

More.

She's turned on, in sleep, lost to some dream, some fantasy he can't see and Castle wonders for a second if he should be jealous. Should he wonder at what delights can draw noises from her that he'd hoped were only his?

But he can't bring himself to think that way, beyond the moment, when she grips the sheets and rocks her ass against the bed. Casting her thighs open wide only to thud them closed, mumbling at the contact and friction it creates.

Whatever lurid attraction is taking place inside her head, he's naked, in bed with Beckett, bearing witness to it. His dreams do come true. Maybe hers can too, with a little help.

He watches as she hums and her cheeks lift, her tongue popping between her teeth, slanting over her lips until she paints them with saliva and their reddened state darkens. She savors something, something delicious to her mind and body, and he knows that face too, has seen that expression appear seconds before she envelops him with her mouth, surrounds him with a heat more brightly burning than the sun, working him up and up and up until he sees _stars_.

She drops back to the bed on the end of a sigh. Heavy breath, scrunching forehead, she wants something and it's just beyond her reach. He's driven her to that point several times, teasing and caressing her to distraction, until she begs. Until she pleads. Until she threatens him with bodily harm in an authoritative tone that just utterly strips him of his control, removes his ability to wait. She gets what she wants when she uses that voice and she knows it.

Chest dancing, she fights to breathe, nipples peaked hard and gumdrop red. She's sweet and candy-delicious. He wants her in his mouth. But somehow he holds off.

Castle rolls closer until her arm is against his chest, trapped between their bodies as she scrunches his sheets up in her fist, until he's pressed all along the length of her side and the blistering heat of her aroused sleeping body is billowing up and over him.

He breathes her name and, though sleeping, she reacts, her head dips in his direction and she rumbles, shudders and growls in response.

The sheet is lost as she kicks out. Her knees splay, thighs clenching, as she lifts her hips and he cannot resist reaching out to touch her.

* * *

><p><em>He tastes so good.<em>

_Hard in her mouth, heavy on her tongue. She inhales his skin as it brushes her nose, the quaking muscles of his stomach quivering against her forehead as she rolls her tongue, curls it around his shaft so that he yelps, because she knows that one little movement drives him crazy. Kate inhales deeply, hollows out her cheeks and closes her eyes, sinking down over him. _

_All of him. _

_She needs all of him._

_She moans again. The Castle in front of her barely moving as she devours him, his fingers light in her hair, trailing her shoulders. But the Castle at her back is still teasing, still gyrating against her soaking lips, smearing himself in her desire and never, ever sinking more than a fingertips distance inside her._

_It feels amazing, fucking intense, driving her higher and frustrating as hell because she needs more, needs deeper and hard and him. She needs him everywhere._

_Kate moans again, vibrates her tongue over the Castle in her mouth, grazes the thick shaft with her teeth, forcing herself not to bite him. She digs her nails into his thighs and rocks her hips, their gentle sway a silent scream of please, please, please._

* * *

><p>The sheet flutters down beyond the bed and Castle lets it go. He wants an unhindered view of her naked body, of her writhing in delirium. He bites his lips to stop himself speaking, wants to touch and taste and wake her with his mouth and he's hard, achingly hard against the silken brush of her thigh, but he forces himself not to touch her, not yet.<p>

He's loathe to wake her as Kate's panting form lays spread eagled in his bed, the mounting sounds of desire breaking her lips every now and then. He's never seen her like this in sleep, never once seen her this loose and far gone unless he's touching her.

It's fascinating.

It's beautiful and hot.

It's every fantasy he imagined only a million times more life ending. She's gorgeous and open and uninhibited in ways he's only just learning.

Her eyelids flutter and her hand lifts as though reaching, her fingers spread and then drop to skim her belly and she reacts to her own touch with a whimper, fingers curling at her navel.

She wants to touch herself, or wants someone else to touch her, whoever it is she's locked in sexual frenzy with within her mind. She wants to slide her fingers lower, but for some reason she doesn't and they fall to her side instead.

It's turning him on to see her like this, arousal flushing her skin, darkening her breasts and pooling in her cheeks. She's lit up by the early morning sunlight that floods his bedroom, a writhing goddess of sex, and the scent of her rabid hunger for _whatever _is taking place in her subconscious is starting to dominate the room.

His eyes ravage her body, head to toe, lingering at her breasts as his mouth floods with need, to her hip, the marks his teeth have left there, until the glimmering rays of sunlight land between her thighs and _glisten_; it tells him just how wet she is, how ready, how hot and perfect and aching for completion. He wants to sink his fingers inside her, his lips over her, plunder her with his tongue and drink in every drop.

He wants kneel between the quivering muscles and part her slowly, lift her legs up to his head over his shoulders, bringing her to meet him, so that every thrust is strong and deep and driving her mad, buried inside her until they both scream and break apart.

He's panting too now, hardly able to breathe.

Castle lifts himself, leveling all weight on his arm, fingers in the air above her as his battles with himself, torn between need to touch and a voyeuristic urge to watch her for as long as possible.

Her toes curl, one leg kicks out and drapes itself over his thigh, almost in offering.

_Touch me._

She's said it before. Mewled it, moaned it, demanded and screamed it. The first time the words left her mouth he almost fell apart there and then.

_Touch me, Castle._

The watcher in him wins out, his fingers burning, aching as his own nails bite into the meat of his palm, but he placates himself by inhaling over her chest, her nipple a tongue's lick distance from his mouth.

She smells divine, luscious, like hot syrup over something sticky. Sweet. He wants to throw himself over her body and bury his head between her legs before she wakes, bring her up out of this dream filled sleep with a screaming, leg shaking orgasm. Keep at her until she's coming again and again.

They haven't tried that yet, tried a lot but not that, and now the idea's in his head, he wants it. Wants _her_. Awake and in his arms and _his_. Just the way, under the play of her fingers, he's hers.

God, he's never wanted anyone so much in his life. Never felt it burn through him like this, never felt it in every body part all at once. Like she's an infusion that now permeates every cell.

Why the hell have they only been doing this for two weeks? Everything only a handful of times.

It's not enough, never gonna be enough.

They have a lifetimes worth of sexual fantasy and desire to make up for. He wants her in every way, every position, however she'll have him and give herself in return. Anything she offers, he'll take it.

Blood pounds through him, hard, as he bobs against her skin and Castle can't stop himself from thrusting a little so his erection grazes her hip. The touch is bliss and agony and not enough.

She whimpers and her mouth opens, lips moving around a word he's unsure of.

Until she growls it, long and low.

"Castle."

* * *

><p><em>She reaches behind her when the wait becomes too much, when the thick feel of him barely grazing her is driving her insane. He's drenched in the wetness that weeps from her, inner muscles clamping needfully around a promise that he won't fulfill.<em>

_Her fingers reach and graze the slippery length idling between her cheeks, slipping over her lips and glancing inside her. She touches the proof of her own wet, aching heat, tries to find relief in her own fingers only to have the Castle thrusting into her mouth draw her arms back up to him._

_Two Castle's, one behind, one in front, and both frustrating as hell._

* * *

><p>She moans his name and he gives up all pretense of keeping his distance, opening his mouth at her chest and laving over her nipple. She arches high and moans, slides her hips down, squeezes her thighs together to get that little extra stimulation, but, oh no, he won't let her.<p>

If she wants this and him, and everything he can give her with his touch, she'll have to join him in this reality. Leave her dreams behind.

Castle clamps a hand at her hip, drags his nails over her skin so she shivers and rises up onto his knees.

She's a deep sleeper when she's really out and his movements are light but he wonders how she's not awake, how she's not slipped beyond the realm of dark pleasure that holds her enraptured and come back to him yet.

He catches sight of the seeping evidence of sex between her legs, painting the inner softness of her thighs and he then gives up caring. Castle settles himself as close as he can, stroking the soft curve of her ass, up the back of her thigh to her knee, before lifting it and coiling it over his hip.

She stirs and he moves slowly, not wanting to startle her. Crawling the length of the bed until his mouth hits the space just below her breast bone that makes her moan.

He wonders if she'll moan in her sleep when he sucks on her flesh.

She does.

* * *

><p><em>His hands dig into her hips and this is it she thinks, this is it, Castle readying himself to slide home and slide deep and fill her until she wants to scream out at the perfection of it all.<em>

_She's open and wanting and he's right there. Hot, she's so hot and his touch is scalding._

_Her muscles clench, her orgasm building and right on the approach he slides inside her, tipping her into oblivion._

* * *

><p>Her eyes open and he's there.<p>

Just one of him, between her legs and calling her name, drawing her out of sleep as her muscles spasm around nothing.

Castle's mouth is opening against her breast, trailing kisses, beyond her scar, down her ribs.

"It was a dream." She croaks and his eyes flash up, awareness dawning, as she finally, finally joins him in reality.

"Good morning." His mouth closes around her nipple, sucks, nips, teeth grazing 'til it leaves his mouth on the dirtiest sounding pop and exhale she's ever heard. It's deliberate. Sparking her senses.

He rises high over her body, one leg hooked around his arm so when he leans in to kiss her, parting her mouth with a growl, he rubs himself between the aching folds of her lower lips and sends her spiraling in confusion through reality and fantasy.

Too much, she grips his forearms and shakes, her whole body a live wire of pent up energy, hovering right on the edge of an explosion.

"Good dream?" He asks and smirks and whatever he's seen of her aroused state he'll never forget, she can see it in the darkest blue of his eyes. She'll never live it down, never want to, and he'll make it worth her while to spill whatever secrets left her in this state.

She nods, words hard, too hard to find and articulate, too hard to string together when he's just grazing, just missing where she wants him. Toying in the swollen, intimate parts of her that are finally getting acquainted with his.

"You." She breathes and fire ignites in his vision, pride and mirth and _fuck yes_ all at once. He swoops in and kisses her hard, rubs himself against her and she can feel how thick and ready he is, so much better than her dream, so much better than she ever thought possible.

He leans in and sweeps the hair from her eyes, touches her cheeks and kisses her again, slides his tongue in her mouth with each slow rock that makes her squirm and pant.

They should have been doing this for years, they are so very, very good at it.

"What did I do?" He asks, and she can hear it in his voice, pride and want and _whatever you need_. _Tell me and I'll do it._

She laughs and hooks her arm around his neck, holds him against her, foreheads touching as her fingers slip between them and she aligns him perfectly, no more waiting, no more teasing, him inside her now.

Now.

"There were _two_ of you." She growls and she knows him because the effect is immediate. Castle's body reacts to her words the only way he knows how, driving himself inside her on one, hard, frantic thrust.

He hits her deep, just as she wanted, and her eyes roll back. Buried to the root he holds her frozen, waits until they can both breathe through the sudden, intense and fucking un-explainable connection they share.

Her eyes come back to him finally, slowly, and he reaches for her other ankle, weight on his knees as he draws her leg high to his shoulder.

She melts beneath him, no other words to explain the way he spears her, fills her, opens her up until her whole body comes apart at the seams. Castle slides inside, drops his weight to his hands so he can rest them either side of her head and pushes himself deeper inside her than he's ever been before.

Like being consumed by fire.

Her nails dig into his biceps, slide up to his shoulders and she whimpers, whimpers and meets the last inch between them with gritted teeth. He brushes nerves that splinter shock waves through her system, elastic muscles taut and unrelenting as she pulls him deeper, closer.

"One not enough for you, Beckett." He growls in her ear and she can't speak or respond, his fierce determination, his confidence in himself, in them, startlingly erotic.

"Yes." She cries and his hips slam into hers, three fast thrusts before he slides slow, makes her feel every inch of him working inside.

One of him is enough.

More than enough.

"Yes." Her ankles at his shoulders, lock behind his neck and she's going to feel it later, this position is gonna leave her spent and exhausted and aching in the best fucking way.

"Yes." It's almost too deep to breathe and feel at the same time. Somehow she does, somehow she keeps her eyes on him as she starts to quiver, to come apart.

One of him is probably all she can handle, but, by god, she'd be willing to attempt it when he slides his thumb across her bottom lip so she can bite at the pad. He growls when she sucks the digit over her tongue, slowly pushing deeper until she bites down hard.

Another hard thrust and he's coming inside her, hot and deep and her own pleasure washes over her like lava, followed by the swells of a second more intense, more obliterating orgasm that steals her breath and her ability to do anything other than scream his name.

It's a fantasy she doesn't need now, not now they're together, panting into each other's necks with every spasm of muscle.

One Castle is most definitely _more_ than enough, but two, oh, two would be _nirvana_.


End file.
